


Blood in the Water

by Roseblu3



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Action, Alternate universe - Mafia, Angst, Blood and Gore, Cop! George, Corruption, Disturbing Themes, Drugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gambling, Gang Violence, Gunplay, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mafia! Dream, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Romance, Slow Burn, Torture, Undercover, Violence, dreamnotfound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28809063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roseblu3/pseuds/Roseblu3
Summary: A rookie cop in Miami. A notorious hit man on the loose. George never imagined himself rooting for the side of the criminal, Dream never imagined himself fighting for the greater good."Look down George, do you see it? This city and everything in it is yours. It's not just me who owns it anymore. It's 𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴."
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Blood in the Water

Radio static echoed off the bedroom walls.

“In other news the notorious serial killer the media is now referring to as “The Dreamcatcher” has struck once again, this time killing two in Miami Beach. That is the sixth murder that has been linked to the killer in the past two months, making him-”

George slapped a hand over the radio and groaned. He really needed to change the alert from the news station to something more relaxing. Murder in the morning just doesn’t sit well with him nor should it for anybody, even though he’s exposed to crime more than the average person. 

Regardless, he wiped the sleep from his eyes and rolled out of bed. The late night he had spent celebrating with his colleagues probably wasn’t the smartest idea given the pounding headache that was plaguing him as he stumbled to the bathroom.

Placing his hands on the sides of the sink he looked into the mirror. 

His reflection had always been something that bothered him. He never saw what he wanted to see. Today was different. Even hungover and groggy, he was beginning to see the changes that he had been working towards. Eyes a little brighter, complexion clearer, and the knowledge that he had just been hired at his dream job immediately after graduating from his program. 

It had only been a couple months since he moved to the states. Being born and bred in the UK has its perks, but everyone knows that if you want to work in major crimes then the US is the place to be. On top of that, one of the first places to offer him a well-paying job was Miami and George had always wanted to be in the sun and dip his toes into the warm water that washed up on the shores. Plus he could use a change in climate after being stuck with the wet dreariness that was London. He was sick of his life being so dull, outside of the obvious effects that come with being colourblind. 

You could say that’s what drew him to the Miami Beach Police department. That chance to be engulfed by blue. The sea and the sky. The only colour that he sees vibrantly finally showing its face frequently in his everyday life. Maybe that’s why he’s happier now, why there’s a bit of spring in his step. After seeing a world so dull, he finally feels an inkling of what it’s like to live in colour. 

After deciding that his hair was just greasy enough to warrant a shower, George twisted the knobs until the water was streaming out of the faucet at the perfect temperature. He pulled the diverter until the steaming water was raining down from the shower-head. Removing his clothes and stepping inside, George let out a satisfied groan. Immediately engulfed in the heat, he began to feel more awake and alive, the water helping to wash away any lingering effects of the previous evening. He decided that he could take a moment to enjoy the sensations as he wasn’t needed at work today. The head of his department had given his unit the day off , both as a congratulations for successfully completing their training, and as an opportunity for them to thoroughly be ready for the night ahead.   
It was announced a few days prior that he was to attend an annual charity event that lay host to some of the most recognizable figures in the state. From politicians to celebrities, there were all kinds of people from different walks of life scheduled to be in attendance. 

And then there was George. He only received an invitation as a courtesy from his boss, who wanted to show off the newest members of Miami Beach’s Major Crimes Unit. He saw it as an opportunity for the newcomers to make connections with others in the justice system, creating associations that may help them in their future endeavours. George saw right through his bullshit, knowing that it was all in self interest. If they were able to solve more big cases then there would be better press for the department. More press equals more funds and more funds means a pay raise for the boss. 

George scoffed at the thought. There was little he hated more than people sitting around and doing nothing yet profiting from the hard work of others. He scrubbed at his hair furiously as his mind filled with those thoughts, scrubbing harder as he began to dread the evening more so than before. 

After rinsing the suds out of his hair and off his body, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel off of the hook. He let it hang from his hips as he grabbed his secondary towel to tousle his hair in the hopes that it would dry quickly. He still had several hours left until he needed to leave for the event but didn’t want to use the hair dryer as it made his dark locks frizzy. He still wanted to look good for the event even if it wasn’t how he wanted to spend his evening. George was still holding out hope that something, or someone, would be able to make the evening a little bit better. 

Stepping into his bedroom, he tossed his towel onto the bed and grabbed a pair of black briefs from the closet. Just as he had pulled them up, he heard his phone buzzing on his night side table where he had fortunately been sober enough to plug it in overnight. The contact name for his mother lit up the screen. Without hesitation he answered it. 

“Hello?”

“Hi Georgie it’s me” her voice was cheerful like always. Never failed to put a smile on George’s face. 

“Hey mom, how are things?” 

“Oh you know just the average. Your dad and I have been keeping up with the garden, we had a few really nice tomatoes pop up this year, it’s too bad that you missed them. ”

George shook his head with a big grin on his face. Leave it to his mother to bring up tomatoes on one of their rare phone calls. 

“We really miss you being here, it’s not the same without my sweet little boy.” 

George wanted to roll his eyes but he couldn’t. He wasn’t their little boy any more, far from that in fact, but he couldn’t help but to hear the sadness in his mother’s voice as she spoke, making him feel the slightest twinge of guilt at leaving. 

“But of course you had to do what was best for you love, and your dad and I are so proud of you.” 

“Thanks mom, I’m pretty proud of myself too. And you know how much I miss you and dad, it’s really not the same without seeing you everyday.” 

“I know dear, I know. But you’ll do great things and we’ll see you back home for Christmas right? Maybe with somebody special this time” she chuckled at the end. 

George actually rolled his eyes this time. He was twenty four and was constantly hearing about how he needed to find someone to settle down with, but he didn’t really have time to form friendships, let alone find a partner. To appease his mother he simply just said “Maybe.” 

She tsked at this but continued rambling on about life back home in England. George listened fondly, soaking up the comforts of home spoken over the phone. Once the call was over he had a brief moment of panic as he remembered to check the time. 

Thankfully there was still plenty of time to get ready for the event. His suit was prepped in the closet, a gorgeous velvet suit that was the deepest blue one could find. George figured that if he had to attend the event at least he could do it in style. It also guaranteed that he would be able to see something bright in case he needed a break from what he was expecting to be a very dreary room. 

Looking in the mirror once more when he was fully suited up, he felt his heart skip a single beat. He looked good. Still George but a more refined and sophisticated version of himself. Much different than the clothes he wore outside of his uniform. It still felt as though something was missing. 

George rummaged through his counter drawer, pulling out the item he was looking for. The small stub of what was left of an eye pencil sat between his fingers. At the corner of his eye he drew the smallest of lines and smudged it out with his fingers. 

It was perfect. It was exactly what was missing from his look. The sharpness that the liner gave his eyes made George shudder at his own appearance. But he knew it was alluring and seemingly dangerous. Exactly what he had wanted when he heard that this was a masquerade party. 

He slid the mask onto his face. One of his colleagues had helped him choose a mask that complimented the deep blue of his suit. It was an ornate gold mask that only covered the eyes. What drew George to it however wasn’t the gold or the intricacy, it was the blue teardrop shaped gems hanging in sets of three from either side of the mask. Now looking at himself with the mask and suit on, he knew that he made the perfect choice. He slid his fingers across the embossment on the mask, letting them follow out to the sides to where there were a few hairs out of place. He fixed them swiftly and patted them to make sure they would stay put throughout the night. 

George’s phone buzzed twice from where he had it resting on the counter beside him. It was a message from his colleague Darryl saying that he was about a minute away to collect George for the event. As George didn’t drive it was fortunate that Darryl had offered him, as well as another member of their team Zak, a ride. 

After replying a quick confirmation that he had received the message George slipped his shoes on and headed outside of his apartment to wait for them to get there. It was merely another minute until Darryl’s car pulled up. 

George hopped in the back and was greeted loudly by Zak and Darryl. 

“Hey Gogy!” Darryl exclaimed excitedly before pulling away from the curb. 

“Hey Darryl, thanks again for picking me up” George said sheepishly, feeling like somewhat of a burden to the pair despite their incessant offers to drive him. 

“Oh it’s no prob” Darryl said with a smile directed at George through the rearview mirror, “Zak lives close by anyways and I was helping him get ready… man can't do anything without me it seems'' He concluded with a smirk and a sideways glance at Zak who shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the lightest dusting of red adorning his cheeks. 

As a comfortable silence took over the car, George found himself drawn to the heated discussion the radio news anchors were having on the stereo. 

“Hey Zak, could you turn it up?” Immediately and without question Zak reached for the dial on the console.

“The police have released an updated public report on the hottest serial killer in Miami.”   
“Nikki, are you sure you should be calling a serial killer hot?”   
“Shut it Eret, you know what I meant. Anyways continuing the report… an autopsy has finally been completed on the Dreamcatcher’s newest victim and there appeared to be nothing wrong with them other than a single injection site on the shoulder, covered with what we now know as the Dreamcatcher’s calling card, a bandaid with and I quote ‘a juvenile smiley face on it”” 

Darryl must have noticed George’s pensive expression as he felt the need to dispel the newfound tension. 

“Even the one day we are excused from duty you still have to lose yourself in work huh Gogy?”

“Maybe he will relax a bit if he finds someone at the gala tonight” Zak chipped in with a wiggle of his eyebrows. George sighed, he hated talking about this stuff. 

“I doubt anyone there will be half as interesting as they would need to be to hold my attention” George says, the Dreamcatcher still on his mind.

He faintly registers Zak and Darryl mentioning something about finding him a sexy serial killer to hold his attention but George was too deep in thought to respond. He had heard many things about this newfound killer, in fact in his first ever debriefing at the station they were warned of his cunning antics, his evasion. Nobody knew what he looked like, sounded like, or acted like. He was an invisible killer, the only proof of his life is through those he takes. The thought of his anonymity made George shudder as he stared at the passing buildings outside his window. 

After a few minutes of letting his thoughts spiral George felt the car stop. It was then he noticed where they were. The tan pillars of the city hall loomed in front of him. George swallowed down the anxiety that was rising in his throat and stepped out of the car. Darryl and Zak were already a few paces ahead of him, having left the car to a chauffeur. 

George didn't exactly remember which room the party was said to be held in so he followed the steady trickle of well dressed officials in the direction he hoped was the gala. Before entering the grandly embellished room, George reached up to his face, making sure the mask was secure. He was going to make the most of his own anonymity tonight to simply blend in with the shadows. The prospect of a night full of petty smalltalk and aimless conversation made him want to gag, but he forced himself to pass the threshold only to immediately be lost in a sea of black and white. 

The tuxedo clad men and evening dress clad women pushed in on him like a slowly shrinking box. In a desperate attempt to not throw himself in the deep end too quickly George scanned the room for a familiar face, the first one being that of his boss. They locked eyes.

Shit. 

Phil started walking towards him, a pretty woman on his arm. He was dressed in a black tux, and her in a white dress. How utterly sickening. George however tried to hold back his silent judgments as Phil approached him. 

“Kristen!” He said with a jovial smile, “this is one of my new boys, George!” Kristen looked over her flute of champagne at George. George offered her a hand and a smile, wanting nothing more than to crawl behind the elaborate silk drapes that framed the room's tall windows and disappear.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Watson” The Sheriff's wife however waved him off.   
“Oh shush darling, I am merely the man's wife, and even he is not a pleasure to be around” she said with a laugh. George smiled, maybe she had some individuality after all, despite her mediocre fashion choices. 

Luckily after George was finally able to break away from their mind numbing conversation about the effects of crime rate on the economy, he made a beeline for the bar. If he had to put up with several more hours of this superficial bullshit he was certainly not going into it sober. 

It was everything that he had hoped it wasn’t. George’s eyes flicked across the room. The dullness of the crowd was beginning to sink in. Cookie cutter people with the same fake personalities stuffed into a room that was too small; the uniformity was killing him. What was even worse was that they were all dressed the same. The men in their suits, all with the same black and white masks with no decoration, like it was a crime to appear feminine in the slightest. And the women, adorned in their jewels and feathers. So many opportunities to look unique, to stand out in the crowd, but somehow they all failed. 

George’s mind was going numb and he knew the only way he would survive this shitshow would be to warm his stomach with something that would make him forget the night. He made his way over to the bartender thanking every god out there, even the ones he didn’t believe in, that it was an open bar. 

Once he had a drink in hand he perched on one of the stools closest to him. His fingers danced along the rim of the crystalline glass as his eyes did another sweep of the room, desperate to find anything that was of any interest. Unlike before where the room felt devoid of any individuality, his eyes were drawn to the door as the noise level in that direction rose. There in a tight fitting suit stood a man that was dripping in confidence. What made him stand out to George was not only his demeanour but his brightly coloured vest and tie peeking through the opening in his jacket. To all others it appeared to be a bright green, but to George it appeared as yellow, though he was unaware of the difference. The man held his head high, giving subtle nods and the slyest of smiles to those who dared look at him. The mask the man was wearing was full of personality, which is where George’s eyes ended after scanning over the man’s body, admittedly more than once. Covering three quarters of the man’s face was a mask that was as pale as a ghost. Feathers emerged from either side of his head, laying behind his ears, and the smallest of lines was drawn beside his mouth. If the mask had covered anymore of his face it appeared as though the line would continue, finishing the line of a smile. It made George shudder, there was a particular coldness that radiated from the simplicity of the mask making the man’s movements seem frigid and calculated. Almost sadistic. But all of that floated away when the man smiled. The warmth of it blasted right through any of the frigidity that George had been feeling. So much that it compelled George to turn back to the counter making it so the man was out of his eye line. He was feeling too many complex emotions and mixed with the alcohol currently making its way into his system, it was a recipe for disaster. 

What he didn’t expect to happen was for the sound of the man’s laughter to gradually become louder as he moved across the room in George’s direction.   
The silence when it ended was even heavier than the sound. 

“Would you like to dance?” A voice that was smooth as honey said from behind him.

George spins around to see who the voice came from. He was shocked to see that the man with the green vest was no more than two feet away from him, hands in his pockets and a lazy grin on his face. 

“Well?” He asks, making George realize he forgot to answer the question. 

“S-sure” He replied, mentally scolding himself for coming across so feeble. 

The two approach the center of the room just as the band had raised their instruments with the promise of music. The man leaned in for the dance and whispered “You seem to want nothing to do with this event, and yet you seem to crave the attention of everyone here… why is that?” 

“W-what is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you hate everyone here yet you are practically screaming for their attention, begging to be seen. That blue suit of yours is a desperate cry no?” 

“How did you-” 

“Just a hunch. I guess you could say I’m the same” 

“Yeah well if my suit is a cry for attention” George looked the man up and down again,” I can’t imagine what yours is.” The corner of the man's mouth that George can see quirks up in a half smile. He leans in so that the distance between the two is lessened. 

“At least I’m not to much of a pussy to admit to it” 

George took a deep inhale at the vulgar word that slipped through the man‘s mouth, both in shock at the frivolous use of it and the warm feeling that washed over him as he said it. It shouldn’t have made him feel the way he did, but there was something so delicious about the way the word sounded in the smooth tone of his voice. Inviting. Seductive. Haunting. George couldn’t stay next to him any longer.

The man noticed the shift in George’s attitude. The sly grin on his face grew even larger. 

“Oh you liked that didn’t you?” 

George just looked up at him, he could feel the blood moving to his cheeks causing them to be dusted in a shade of red. He tried to open his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He decided that he needed another drink. He was thirsty.   
George broke away and walked back towards the bar, signalling for the bartender to pour him another drink. Seconds later, he felt the presence of another person slide behind him. 

“Only naughty boys get turned on by foul language”

George shifted in his seat. This was quickly becoming way too much too fast. 

“Are you a naughty boy-” The man drew out the last word like he was asking a question. 

“G-george, my name‘s George.” George stuttered out, embarrassed that he was getting flustered over so little. 

The man grinned at him. 

“George. Suits you. Now are you going to answer my question?” 

Shit. George and his one track mind had forgotten the question, but he was too scared to ask the man again, lest he have any more tricks up his sleeve. 

So he took a fifty-fifty chance and just answered “Yes.” 

Though it didn’t seem possible the man’s smile grew even wider at that. However as fast as that smile came, it was gone as the man’s eyes noticed someone making their way across the room to them. He looked at the newcomer with that look of familiarity. He scoffed as the man stopped next to them. 

“What could possibly be happening for you to interrupt this lovely evening with my new companion?” 

If looks could kill the newly arrived man would be nothing more than a corpse. He already looked ghostly, like he wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else at that moment.   
“It’s your mother.” 

The colour drained from the visible part of the man’s face, making him so pale that he almost matched the colour of his mask. It took him a couple of seconds to regain his composure and turn back to George. 

“Until next time.” He said, but his voice was strained. George could hear the pain laced in with the smooth vocals that made up the man’s voice, making it difficult for George to be okay with letting him go. 

“Um before you go,” George reached into the interior pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small card. “If you ever need anything, call me.” 

The man took the card, the lost expression still on his face. 

“Thank you George.” George shuddered as the man said his name, the soft tone so smooth, as if it were caressing his body. With that, the man turned and walked away. 

George was disappointed that the only entertaining part of his evening disappeared as quickly as he had shown up but there was nothing he could do. Nothing besides order another drink and hope the rest of the evening passed as painlessly as possible. 

It was only after another hour of torture that the night became interesting once again. Just as George realized he had forgotten to get the man’s name he was tapped on the shoulder. 

It was the guy that had interrupted him and the man in the midst of their conversation. The one who had called him away. 

He said nothing and just handed George a small envelope. Inside was a solid, matte black business card with nothing but a phone number on it. No name, no business address, just a phone number. Along with the card, there was a small sheet of paper. 

“If you ever need anything, call me” was scrawled out in what George assumed to be the man’s handwriting. Beside the text the man had drawn a smiley face. The childish aspect of the note   
made George smile. Though it was frustrating that he still didn’t know the man’s name, he was happy that he had something to prove that it wasn’t just a fever dream, something to remember him by. And maybe if he was feeling bold one day he would call the number so the two of them could finish what they started that evening. 

————————————————————————-

The hard plastic seat was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable as he sat there with his head in his hands. Even though he had been through hell in his lifetime nothing could compare to this. Being in this position never got easier. 

He tightened his grip on his mother’s limp hand, wishing with every fibre of his being that she would squeeze back. That she would open her eyes again and tell him that everything was going to be okay, that she was going to be okay. It was getting to a point where he couldn’t remember what she sounded like without the mechanical whirring of the machines that kept her breathing. 

He didn’t even want to think about losing her. How alone the world would be without her.   
He let go of her hand and leaned back. Reaching down he popped open the buttons of his jacket, relishing in the freedom of no longer being sucked in. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, some of the gel that he had applied earlier transferring over. He let out a deep breath. The door to the room opened. Looking up he saw who was there. 

“Did you give it to him?” He asked. 

“Yeah Dream I did.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Any feedback would be appreciated!


End file.
